


To build a home

by chamyl



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angel Wings, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Feel-good, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Moving In Together, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 08:56:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19438126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chamyl/pseuds/chamyl
Summary: Aziraphale thinks it's time the two of them move in together.Heaven and Hell have other plans.





	To build a home

**Author's Note:**

> Title is the song from The Cinematic Orchestra.

They haven’t found an easier way to do this yet. Human furniture isn’t designed for it, and they can’t be bothered to come up with something themselves. So they’re on the ground.

Aziraphale is sitting with his legs crossed, hands on the floor in front of him, back leaning down as far as it will go. It’s not comfortable. Crowley, behind him, has a pointy knee folded against his chest. He keeps his other leg straight ahead of him, against the angel’s outer thigh.

The thing is, wings are inconvenient. For starters, they take up so much damn space. They had to go to Crowley’s flat because it would have been impossible to do this in the bookshop. And they have to be groomed on regular basis, or they’ll turn into a mess. It’s no coincidence that Crowley, who is very particular about the way he looks, has shiny black feathers. He keeps them perfectly arranged and preened.

Aziraphale’s… well, they are a bit of a mess, to be honest. They might be soft as a cloud, and a wonderful pearly colour, but they’re in dire need of some attention. That’s why Crowley hounded him until the angel let him help him out.

It’s been almost a full year since the Apocalypse-that-almost-was. It would have been unthinkable, a year ago, to do something this intimate. These days, it is not a problem for either of them to be seen naked, or to be touched. Yet, Aziraphale still has some resistance to the idea of letting Crowley handle his wings. They are very delicate, he's very sensitive. He’s a bit afraid the demon will push it too far for his liking, getting rid of any feather that shows some sign of wear.

Crowley, though, can sense the tension in his lover’s body, can see it in the back of his neck as he works on his wings. That’s why he’s very careful, aware as he is that the angel might not allow him to do this again if he’s not cautious enough.

He’s so good that after a while Aziraphale finally relaxes, almost falls asleep even. When he knows the angel can’t see him, Crowley smiles. With great care, he bends a few feathers, aligning them to the others, then checks the time on his TV screen.

“We’ll finish tomorrow.” He says when he notices it’s almost time for Aziraphale to go open his bookshop.

The angel groans, he could have stayed like that a little while longer. But Crowley is right, they can’t spend all morning like this. So he vanishes his wings and turns around to press a kiss to the demon’s lips.

“Why, thank you!” It _does_ feel quite nice, he has to admit. Now, though, he has to do something far less pleasant before he leaves for the day. “Listen, Crowley… there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Crowley does not like that tone. He doesn’t say anything, though, and lets his angel continue.

“I was thinking, this really isn’t safe.” He gestures at the walls around them. “This flat, my bookshop. If they come looking for us, those are the first places they’ll check.”

The demon lifts both eyebrows in surprise. Aziraphale is right, of course, he had just never thought about it.

“So what do we do about it?”

“I did have an idea…” Aziraphale trails off, eyes escaping Crowley’s gaze now. “But I’m not sure… oh, I don’t know.”

“What is it?” Now, Crowley is starting to feel something akin to apprehension. The angel's plan for them would surely include a future where they’re together. Right?

“Well… the idea came to me because I realized that I did enjoy Tadfield quite a bit. It’s a charming little village. So, well… perhaps we could move someplace like that?” The lack of immediate reaction from Crowley prompts him to add, quickly, “Together?”

“But what about your bookshop?” Crowley has no problem leaving this flat, so long as he can bring the few things he cares about the most with him.

“Oh, I know,” Aziraphale sounds downright pained. “I suppose I’ll have to close it down, won’t I?”

“I’m sorry.” The demon puts a hand on his arm.

“It’s alright, truly. I’m lucky enough it did not burn down a year ago.” He sighs, then tries to smile. “We could get a place that has enough room for my books. Someplace out of town. You don’t like London, after all.”

“I don't. Traffic is terrible.”

“Which is your own fault.” Aziraphale reminds him gently. But there's a tinge of that holier-than-thou attitude in his voice. It sets Crowley off, without fail, every single time.

“If it's a fault to do your job well.”

“You do realize you did not do your job well, traffic is a minor annoyance in the grand scheme of things.”

“You would know about minor annoyances.”

Aziraphale gives him a reproaching look, but then smiles. “Well, think about it. I would like not to be too far, just in case we want to pop in town for a quick spot of lunch.” He pats his waistcoat, looking for his clock. “What time is it anyway? Ah, I’m late…”

He gives the demon another quick kiss, and with that he’s out the door. Crowley is left with this small, warm, weird feeling balled up in his chest. Like he’s laid in a particularly sunny spot for a couple hours. He knows what this feeling is, now: love.

* * *

A week later, they start packing. Crowley has only a few things and it doesn’t take him long. He offers to help with the bookshop, but Aziraphale insists he has to do it himself. He’s the only one who knows how to do it. Besides, his books love him, and would feel very affronted to be put away into boxes by someone else’s hands.

Crowley is not sure he follows, but lets it go.

It’s a bit depressing for Aziraphale. He’s alone in his bookshop, emptying shelf after shelf. He’s been here for two hundred years. He always knew this moment would come, but this knowledge doesn’t make it easier. This is another reason he wanted to be alone: he doesn’t want Crowley to see him like this.

He just got to the tenth box, when the door opens.

“We’re clo—” he cuts himself off when he sees the archangel Gabriel walking in. Immediately, Aziraphale changes his stance, standing tall and proud. He has to pretend as if he actually had the power to fight him and win.

Gabriel’s attitude is different too. Is he… he does look a bit scared. He’s alone, or seems to be alone. But Aziraphale notices a small group of tourists standing right outside his bookshop. They must be there for backup, in case anything goes wrong.

“I come in peace.” Gabriel gives him a wide smile, hands up in surrender. “Aziraphale! How have you been?”

He greets him like he’s an old friend, but the angel replies as coldly as he can manage. “In tip-top shape, thank you. What do you want?”

“Now now, no need to be curt.” Gabriel briefly considers the chair to his left, then seems to decide he’d rather keep close to the door. “I come with an offer.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“And what’s this?” As usual, the archangel goes on as if he hasn’t even heard Aziraphale. “Are you packing? Moving someplace warmer? I heard Morocco is great this time of the year.”

Aziraphale does not budge. “I am very busy, so I’m going to ask you to please leave right now. Thank you.”

“About our offer.” Gabriel claps his hands together, then moves them behind his back. He casually takes a couple steps forward. Aziraphale doesn't move an inch. “What would you say if we asked you to come back?”

“ _Back_?”

“Yes, yes! Clean slate and everything.” He waves a hand in the air. “We can put this whole ugly mess behind us and start anew. Things are changing fast, Aziraphale. Good, evil… ah, things aren’t quite so clear-cut anymore. We could use a guy like you.”

Aziraphale can already tell this proposal is worded in a terrible manner. Were he mad enough to go back to Heaven, they’ll make him feel like they are graciously accepting his apologies. He's the one waiting for them to apologize to him, though. He still hasn't heard a single sorry from any one of them. That would be the bare minimum to start rebuilding some trust. “Thank you, but no, thank you.”

“Think about it.” Gabriel offers him his best smile. “You would get promoted and everything. You might even be my boss in a few centuries!”

He laughs like he just said something hilarious. He takes another step forward, then abruptly stops. His smile is wiped from his face as he starts carefully scanning Aziraphale from head to toe.

“Are you—” he tilts his head to the side. “You can’t possibly… Aziraphale. The smell of evil is all over you.”

Aziraphale tries to close off any aura he might have given off, but knows it’s too late.

“What is this?” Gabriel sounds like he just stepped in a puddle of mud with a brand-new pair of shoes. “Is it… _love_? Aziraphale, are you and the demon Crowley…? Oh good God. I did not believe the rumors, but now… Lord, have mercy.” He looks up at the ceiling, and Aziraphale has never been tempted to sock him in the face more than he is right now.

“Last time I was there, demons were roaming freely in Heaven’s headquarters, weren’t they?” He replies, piqued.

“Yes, well, I don’t share their bed!” Gabriel looks a bit surprised at his own reaction, clears his throat, tries again. “That’s… that’s alright. Like I said, you would have clean slate.”

Before Aziraphale can reply, Gabriel is opening the bookshop’s door.

“I’ll be in touch.” He smiles one last time and finally leaves. The group of tourists outside disappears with him.

Aziraphale’s shoulders slump, heart beating fast in his chest. It’s very hard to stand up to a former superior, even if you’re free from his control now.

Crap. They really need to get a move on with this leaving London thing.

* * *

A few hours later, Crowley has his own encounter with his former ‘friends’.

He’s just parked the Bentley (on the sidewalk) on the street of his flat when he spots two familiar faces.

“Hastur! Ligur! And here I was thinking this smell was due to the sewers flooding.”

“Ha ha. Very funny.” Hastur replies, deadpan, standing in his way. Crowley pushes right past them.

“Don’t stand too long in the sun, it won’t help with the stink.”

He’s waving goodbye at them when Ligur shouts at him. “Wait! Come back.”

“Sorry guys, I have a very busy day of doing nothing ahead of—”

“No, you idiot,” Ligur cuts him off. “Come back to Hell. We’ll take you back.”

Crowley makes the effort to look genuinely confused. “And why the Heaven would I do that?”

Hastur and Ligur look at each other. They hadn’t thought this far. They had just been told to go and see if they could convince him to come back with them.

“Lord Beelzebub says you can come back.” Hastur offers.

“Guys. There is not a chance in _Hell_ I would come back. Great talking to you though. Buh-bye!”

“We know your angel is about to leave you.” Ligur shouts after him.

So, that works, because Crowley stops dead. The two demons are very satisfied at this turn of events, and smirk at each other.

“You don’t know anything.” Crowley says, swiveling around and walking closer to them.

“Oh yes, oh yes we know.” Says Hastur, a big idiot smile on his face. “Heaven wants him back, I heard they made him quite the offer.”

“I heard he was very intrigued.” Adds Ligur.

“I heard” Crowley snaps his fingers. The engine of his Bentley comes to life, “That getting run over by a car is quite painful.”

The Bentley moves in reverse towards them, at quite the alarming speed. The demons yelp and disappear, leaving Crowley alone. The car stops just an inch from a wall. Crowley pats its hood, staring right through it, lips tightly pressed together.

* * *

That night, they’re again on the floor as Crowley finishes off the work he’d started the previous day.

“Something weird happened to me today.” He mentions, carefully.

“What is it, dearest?”

“Hastur and Ligur came looking for me. They offered me to come back.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale stares pointedly at the floor in front of him. “And what did you say?”

“I said no, of course. What did you think I would say?” Crowley can’t help some anger slipping into his voice.

“Exactly that. Of course.” Aziraphale doesn’t add anything else. The demon tries to focus on a particularly stubborn quill. He can’t, though. He has to say something.

“What about you? Did anyone from your side contact you?”

“Former side.” Aziraphale corrects him. “No. Not at all. They must have forgotten all about me! Which is good. Great. Best case scenario and all that.”

“I see.” Crowley feels his heart sink deep into his stomach. He sits there in silence after that.

When he’s done, as soon as Aziraphale dematerializes his wings, the demon scoots closer. He wraps his arms around the angel, face pressing against the back of his neck. Aziraphale's soft white-gold hair tickles his forehead gently.

“Crowley...?”

“Shhh.”

He keeps him like that for a few long minutes before letting him go.

* * *

A few days later, it’s a gloomy Saturday morning. Rain is tapping mercilessly over Londoners’ heads and roofs. That doesn’t stop Aziraphale from getting Crowley out of bed a little shy of 6 AM. Of course, the demon does not need to sleep – but damn it, he enjoys it.

They get in the car and Aziraphale insists he’ll give him directions. Says he’s been recommended an amazing restaurant just out of town. Crowley doesn’t get why they have to go at the crack of dawn, but he has more important things to worry about.

Like the fact that’s he's absolutely, completely, one hundred percent sure he’s about to be dumped. He has barely seen Aziraphale these last few days. He was always ‘too busy’ to spend any time together, even at night.

It’s not by chance that the Bentley starts playing, of course, Queen’s _Love of my life_.

Aziraphale pats the dashboard, concerned. “Poor contraption, is it sad?”

“S’fine.” Crowley replies, and for once he does actually watch the road.

When Aziraphale tells him to stop, they’re on the outskirts of a small village, not at all unlike Tadfield. The angel takes them on a walk, and thankfully the sky has cleared up enough to leave their umbrellas behind.

“Isn’t it nice?” Aziraphale sounds excited as they walk by a bakery, a pastry shop, a bookstore and a barber. “It’s very small and quiet, but it has everything you would ever need.”

“Uh-huh.” Replies Crowley, who doesn’t feel infected by his enthusiasm at all.

A few minutes later, Aziraphale stops them, then takes his hand.

“Here we are.” He tilts his head towards a green gate, surrounded left and right by a thick wall of ivy.

“Here where?”

“Ah, well… to our soon-to-be home, I hope.”

Crowley blinks behind his dark glasses, looks at the gate, then back at Aziraphale, then back at the gate.

“Home?”

“Come on now, Crowley, don’t be too difficult. Just keep an open mind, will you?”

The demon follows him, stunned into silence.

There’s a long white driveway that leads to a cottage. The small building is far from the street, it would guarantee the privacy of its inhabitants.

“I had to add the garage, it wasn’t here before.” Aziraphale tells him as Crowley takes in the cottage. The cream coloured brick of the walls, the brown mismatched tiles of the roof, the small white windows. There’s even a chimney. It’s… ridiculously quaint.

He’d expected the inside to be musty, but it isn’t. The windows are small, but there are many of them, and lots of light filters in. The walls and floors inside are completely white, and there’s a lot of room. A wooden stair leads them upstairs.

“I think this is where I could put my books. Maybe an armchair could go over there… a desk under the window. And you can decorate downstairs, if you’d like.”

Crowley has yet to manage saying a single word. Aziraphale looks at him expectantly. Then, when there’s no reaction, he sighs.

“Ah, I see. I’m sorry. I got ahead of myself. You don’t like this.”

“It’s not…” Crowley still hasn’t managed to pull himself together. “I like this.”

“You’re frowning. Very deeply, Crowley.”

“Am I?” He rubs a hand on his forehead. He is. “I just… I don’t get it.”

“We did talk about moving out of the city, dearest. You agreed.”

“Yes but… why go through all the trouble of taking us here if you’re about to leave?”

Aziraphale blinks. “Where am I going?”

“Back?” he points to the ceiling. “To Heaven?”

“I… what—?” Aziraphale comes closer, taking his hands. “Who told you that?”

“Hastur and Ligur.”

“Crowley! You should know better than to trust those two.” He shakes his head resolutely. “I am not going anywhere. Gabriel asked, but I turned him away immediately.”

“You didn’t tell me, though.” Mutters the demon, relief washing over him with every word of reassurance his lover gives him.

“I… well. No, I suppose I did not.” He looks around, but there’s nowhere to sit (yet). So he sits on the ground, dragging Crowley down with him. Again, the two of them find themselves on the floor together, this time facing each other. “I didn’t tell you because I had to think about it. If there was a way for both of us to go back, it would be safer.”

Crowley opens his mouth to speak, and Aziraphale stops him right away. “I know, I know. You would hate it there. And besides, I would absolutely not trust them not to hurt you. So it took me a couple of days, but it was a very easy choice. I don’t want to go back. I want to live here. With you.”

“Angel.” _You scared me._

“I really think you’ll like it here.” _I know, I’m sorry._

“It’s not bad. I like that my car gets its own room.” _I love you, and I forgive you._

“And there’s plenty of space for your plants too, if you want to bring them along.” _Let me make it up to you._

“Heh, we’ll see if they behave.” _I would love that._

* * *

Gabriel hasn’t stopped ranting about Aziraphale and Crowley for a week straight. Nobody can stand him anymore. As soon as somebody, anybody at all seems willing to listen, he’ll start all over again.

“An angel and a demon! A demon and an angel! What is wrong with them?!” He drops the reports Michael had carefully arranged for him. The pages scatter on the floor. “I would have never thought that Aziraphale… I mean I knew he was weird, don’t get me wrong. Eating human food, _ugh_. But this? This?!”

Sandalphon nods absently.

“And it’s not even a small sin of the flesh. Oh, no no no. They _love_ each other. Do you understand how bad this is?! They. _Love_. Each. Other.” He punctuates each word with a fist to the nearby desk, Michael’s pencils rolling off. Michael glares at the archangel, saying nothing.

It’s finally Uriel that stops his shouting. “I could tell they were sleeping together. It was quite obvious, if you ask me.”

Michael nods. “Yes.” 

Gabriel looks from Uriel to Michael, then back to Sandalphon, who’s nodding too. “It was.”

“Was I the only one who didn’t know?!” He sighs, exasperated. As he stomps away, the other angels hear him mutter, “I need a very long vacation. Somewhere very far. Alpha Centauri, maybe…”


End file.
